Babies are very forgiving. Most days, being a NICU nurse doesn't continually break my heart. Especially the big babies that can be held and rocked. The moment you pick them up in your arms, they forget that you are the same person who moments ago poked them with a very sharp needle and stole their blood. I can handle them screaming in my face knowing that, after it is all over, I will bundle them up and rock them to sleep and they will do that wonderful baby-thing where they put their hand on your chest and both of your breathing slows and you believe that the world is a lovely place.
As it turns out, the same technique doesn't fly with older children. They have memories. And clear vision that allows them to identify the girl coming towards them in scrubs and associate her with fear and pain. They scream in your face and don't want to look at you after. Apparently, there is a whole world of pediatric nursing that I hadn't even considered. That was the beginning of my week. It was filled with a myriad of emotions as I tried to learn how to balance a 5 or 6 patient load, tried to remember back from nursing school how a bedpan works, and tried to figure out how to give medications to patients that are about 45 times the size of those that I am used to. Overall, by midweek, I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself. Anyone who knows me well knows that I wouldn't consider myself a "natural" in the world of nursing. I have always felt that I excelled in other areas. Nursing is a challenge for me. But, I was thinking, perhaps, nursing is a challenge that I am beginning to conquer. Being thrown into a world of completely different equipment, medications, ages and types of patients, and to be honest, just an entirely unique way of getting things done, I was preparing myself to sink. At the end of the day though, nobody had died. I have heard nurses use that criteria for the measure of a good day. Obviously, it is a lot more complex than that, but, considering the circumstances, I felt like I was doing alright.
By the end of the week on the Africa Mercy, unfortunately, things had become a little more intense. "Intensive Care" in North America means ventilators, arterial blood gases, hourly vitals, chest tubes, sedation drugs, and code carts. All things that are pretty foreign to African health care. The last ship from Mercy Ships apparently did not have an intensive care unit. Our main purpose here is to provide reconstructive surgery for things that in other countries would be an easy-fix. Many of our patients go home within a couple of days. However, our lack of resources sometimes means that we cannot foresee how a patient will tolerate surgery. And then there is the inevitable fact that as humans, we have a certain degree of compassion that cannot look another human being in the eye and tell them we cannot help. That their situation is hopeless. It seems that all too often here, we have to say that. But sometimes, we try. And this week, a combination of these factors led to patients in our intensive care unit that I would have never thought possible in Africa. Resources are limited here; However, we somehow maintained a level of care that in some ways, actually did compare to the level of care that we are used to providing in our home countries. But there are also many limitations. Doctors, nurses, lab techs, x-ray techs, supplies, equipment, drugs, are all in very high demand. We are all from various backgrounds, specialties, and levels of experience. This makes for a completely unique and challenging situation. So, we do the best we can with what we have.
When I came to Africa to be a nurse, I knew it would be nothing like what I was used to. I guess the thing that wrecked me this week, was actually how close the level of care came to what I was used to. I didn't think that I would be taking care of a sedated, ventilated child, with central lines doing neurovitals, helping make decisions about courses of action. The fact that it was on a child and not a baby, and therefore, was a completely new situation for me regardless of the fact that we are in Africa is a different story, that is beyond the scope of my brain right now. At the end of this week, I am left with completely mixed feelings. Friday may have been the scariest day of my nursing career thus far. It was very very very hard to provide the level of care that we were trying to provide. I had to continually remind myself that I am in Africa and many of the shortcomings had nothing to do with my personal experience and skills, and were simply a result of the circumstances. On the other hand, we had the potential this week to offer something to patients that otherwise would have been impossible. During one of my many near "freak-outs" on Friday, regarding my own personal fear and lack of comfort, one of the charge nurses made a very valid point that stuck with me. She said "If you weren't here, we wouldn't be caring for this child". For that point in time, I apparently was the most qualified person for the job. I really believe God called me to Africa, for this season of my life, for a specific purpose. That being said, I have to also believe that what happened this week in the intensive care unit on the Africa Mercy, on a grand scheme was allowed by God.
As I start a fresh week of being a nurse on the Africa Mercy, I am struggling to feel competent and motivated. I know that many of us are. I have had this overwhelming feeling of "failing human kind", that may be only partly justified. The thing that is keeping me going is that I know nothing happens by chance. Everyone of the crew members was brought here with a purpose, and it isn't by chance that we all ended up here together. Though we are limited in skills and experience and expertise, let alone resources and equipment, we are not functioning in our own strength or by our own will. And therefore, we are not bound by our human limitations. We have come here to touch lives, and through the accumulation of everything we as a team can offer, we will touch lives.
posted by Jenn
Comments Off
Babies are very forgiving. Most days, being a NICU nurse doesn't continually break my heart. Especially the big babies that can be held and rocked. The moment you pick them up in your arms, they forget that you are the same person who moments ago poked them with a very sharp needle and stole their blood. I can handle them screaming in my face knowing that, after it is all over, I will bundle them up and rock them to sleep and they will do that wonderful baby-thing where they put their hand on your chest and both of your breathing slows and you believe that the world is a lovely place.
As it turns out, the same technique doesn't fly with older children. They have memories. And clear vision that allows them to identify the girl coming towards them in scrubs and associate her with fear and pain. They scream in your face and don't want to look at you after. Apparently, there is a whole world of pediatric nursing that I hadn't even considered. That was the beginning of my week. It was filled with a myriad of emotions as I tried to learn how to balance a 5 or 6 patient load, tried to remember back from nursing school how a bedpan works, and tried to figure out how to give medications to patients that are about 45 times the size of those that I am used to. Overall, by midweek, I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself. Anyone who knows me well knows that I wouldn't consider myself a "natural" in the world of nursing. I have always felt that I excelled in other areas. Nursing is a challenge for me. But, I was thinking, perhaps, nursing is a challenge that I am beginning to conquer. Being thrown into a world of completely different equipment, medications, ages and types of patients, and to be honest, just an entirely unique way of getting things done, I was preparing myself to sink. At the end of the day though, nobody had died. I have heard nurses use that criteria for the measure of a good day. Obviously, it is a lot more complex than that, but, considering the circumstances, I felt like I was doing alright.
By the end of the week on the Africa Mercy, unfortunately, things had become a little more intense. "Intensive Care" in North America means ventilators, arterial blood gases, hourly vitals, chest tubes, sedation drugs, and code carts. All things that are pretty foreign to African health care. The last ship from Mercy Ships apparently did not have an intensive care unit. Our main purpose here is to provide reconstructive surgery for things that in other countries would be an easy-fix. Many of our patients go home within a couple of days. However, our lack of resources sometimes means that we cannot foresee how a patient will tolerate surgery. And then there is the inevitable fact that as humans, we have a certain degree of compassion that cannot look another human being in the eye and tell them we cannot help. That their situation is hopeless. It seems that all too often here, we have to say that. But sometimes, we try. And this week, a combination of these factors led to patients in our intensive care unit that I would have never thought possible in Africa. Resources are limited here; However, we somehow maintained a level of care that in some ways, actually did compare to the level of care that we are used to providing in our home countries. But there are also many limitations. Doctors, nurses, lab techs, x-ray techs, supplies, equipment, drugs, are all in very high demand. We are all from various backgrounds, specialties, and levels of experience. This makes for a completely unique and challenging situation. So, we do the best we can with what we have.
When I came to Africa to be a nurse, I knew it would be nothing like what I was used to. I guess the thing that wrecked me this week, was actually how close the level of care came to what I was used to. I didn't think that I would be taking care of a sedated, ventilated child, with central lines doing neurovitals, helping make decisions about courses of action. The fact that it was on a child and not a baby, and therefore, was a completely new situation for me regardless of the fact that we are in Africa is a different story, that is beyond the scope of my brain right now. At the end of this week, I am left with completely mixed feelings. Friday may have been the scariest day of my nursing career thus far. It was very very very hard to provide the level of care that we were trying to provide. I had to continually remind myself that I am in Africa and many of the shortcomings had nothing to do with my personal experience and skills, and were simply a result of the circumstances. On the other hand, we had the potential this week to offer something to patients that otherwise would have been impossible. During one of my many near "freak-outs" on Friday, regarding my own personal fear and lack of comfort, one of the charge nurses made a very valid point that stuck with me. She said "If you weren't here, we wouldn't be caring for this child". For that point in time, I apparently was the most qualified person for the job. I really believe God called me to Africa, for this season of my life, for a specific purpose. That being said, I have to also believe that what happened this week in the intensive care unit on the Africa Mercy, on a grand scheme was allowed by God.
As I start a fresh week of being a nurse on the Africa Mercy, I am struggling to feel competent and motivated. I know that many of us are. I have had this overwhelming feeling of "failing human kind", that may be only partly justified. The thing that is keeping me going is that I know nothing happens by chance. Everyone of the crew members was brought here with a purpose, and it isn't by chance that we all ended up here together. Though we are limited in skills and experience and expertise, let alone resources and equipment, we are not functioning in our own strength or by our own will. And therefore, we are not bound by our human limitations. We have come here to touch lives, and through the accumulation of everything we as a team can offer, we will touch lives.
This entry was posted on at Sunday, March 02, 2008. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can